Fixing Mione: aka Bookworms Like It Best
by jamesaddict
Summary: After Hermione is badly raped by Viktor Krum, she swears off sex forever. Can Harry help heal her and teach her the joys of lovemaking? (one-shot)


Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

Note: This was written in response to the Fixing Mione challenge at Mione: Aka Bookworms Like It Best 

"Let me of out of here!" screamed Hermione Granger as she pounded her fists furiously against the wooden door of Viktor Krum's bedroom.

"Not a chance," he growled, his voice thick with accent and alcohol. "Now take them off," he ordered, motioning to her long, ankle-length skirt and sweater with his wand.

Her eyes widened in fear as she pounded even harder on the door.

"Take them off! Now!" His lips curled into a small smile. "Or I'll do it for you." His eyes gleamed lecherously as they traveled up and down her body, hungry to see what was underneath her clothes.

Hermione resumed her pounding and screaming, but to no avail. Viktor merely watched her, the smile still on his face.

"Okay then." He pointed his wand at her. Instantly, all of her clothes were stripped from her body. She gasped and looked down at her naked form, as she instinctively tried to cover herself up with her arms.

"Very nice…" he whispered, as he gazed upon her hungrily. Hermione, at her breaking point, just sank to the floor, covering her face with her hands as she sobbed tears of fear and loathing.

"Get on the bed," he commanded, as he reached for his belt buckle. She paid him no heed and continued to sob.

"Get on the fucking bed!" he yelled, as he began growing angrier. She recoiled in fear at his harshness. Suddenly, he was there, pulling her up by the arms, his grip like vices, throwing her onto the bed brutally, pinning her underneath him… She kicked and fought, but he was too strong for her. And he had magic on his side. For he had already tied her arms to the bedposts, using his wand.

It was hopeless. Hermione finally just lay still, completely spent, her face all splotchy and tear-streaked, her hair a mess, her naked body quivering.

"Now that's more like it," Viktor purred, as he discarded the rest of his clothes. "Who know's? You might even like this. After all, it's usually the bookworms who like it best."

She shut her eyes tight in revulsion as he pried her legs apart and jabbed into her brutally. She screamed at the pain. Screamed and sobbed as he pounded into her again and again, his rough hands traveling harshly over her body, his mouth biting painfully at her breasts…

"No, Viktor! Please…."

"Oh, yes…"

"Noooo!"

Hermione Granger awoke with a start, her heart pounding furiously and her body covered with a thin sheen of perspiration. She had had the dream again. The dream about Viktor and the night he had raped her. She quietly slipped out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. She flipped on the switch, and the harsh light suddenly illuminated her surroundings. The white tile, the bathtub, the mirror… She caught sight of her reflection and just stared.

Her eyes looked dull, as if someone had stripped the very life out of them. Slowly, she slipped out of her nightgown and underwear and looked at herself naked in the mirror, her face emotionless. Her hands slid over her breasts gently, searchingly. Yes. The marks were gone. It had taken over a month, but they were gone. She examined her arms. Only two faint bruises were left. Hardly any trace of that night remained. _The evidence is gone. But the damage is still there. _

She remembered the blood. The tiny specks of it on the sheets. _So you're a virgin, are you? All the better, _he had growledShe remembered the tearing, the searing pain, like someone was reaming her out with a hoe handle. She remembered his crude words, his reeking breath.

She looked at herself a while longer, unseeing, unfeeling. Then, slowly, quietly, she slipped back into her clothes and returned to her bed. But she did not sleep. The luminous dial on the clock read 2:12.

"Hermione!" Helen Granger exclaimed, as she caught the first sight of her daughter coming down the stairs for breakfast. "You look horrible! Didn't you get any sleep?"

Hermione's eyes had dark circles around them and she was frightfully pale. She plopped into a chair and nibbled absently at a piece of toast.

"Did you have the dream again?" her mother said quietly.

Hermione nodded. "Come here," Helen whispered, pulling her into a hug. "Only time will make it better."

"Nothing can make it better."

"Would you like to see your friends? Ron and Harry? Maybe they could cheer you up."

For the first time, in ages, a trace of hope crossed Hermione's face, and her eyes lit up. But the light in her face disappeared as soon as it had come.

"No. They're busy. Ron's going on vacation and Harry is with the Dursleys."

"I could contact Dumbledore again. Maybe he could arrange something."

"No. Don't bother. I don't want to be any more trouble." With that, the sixteen year old arose from the table and wandered aimlessly back up to her room, leaving a bewildered Helen Granger staring after her.

That had been the first sign of hope Helen had seen in her daughter in weeks, at the mention of Harry and Ron. Helen vowed then and there to get them together. Hermione needed help. Badly.

Two evenings later, Hermione was laying on her bed, absently leafing through a book, but not reading it. She fought the urge to rip the pages to shreds. Didn't anyone understand what she'd been through? You couldn't just forget something like that! A soft knock on the door drew her back to the present.

"Hermione, honey, open the door," said Helen. "I've got a surprise for you."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she slowly got up. She knew her parents meant well, but this was something that couldn't be cured with presents. She didn't know if she'd ever get over it. She pulled open the door. "What is it?" she said in an exasperated voice. But then she saw. "Harry!"

Instantly she was on him, hugging him tightly, basking in the comfort and familiarity of his touch. "Hermione," he breathed as he ran his hands through her hair.

Helen just watched them, a small smile on her face. This was the first time she'd seen Hermione so happy in ages. "I'll just leave you two alone, now." She said, as she started down the stairs.

Hermione let go of Harry and looked at her mother. "Thanks," she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. Helen smiled and disappeared down the stairs.

The two looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. "I heard about what happened," he said softly, as they entered her bedroom.

She nodded, not meeting his eyes. "Hermione, I'm sooo sorry. I'd have come sooner, but we all thought you wanted to be alone. Your mother contacted Dumbledore yesterday and he arranged for me to come…" But he couldn't finish because she was hugging him again. Tightly and desperately.

"Oh Harry!" she cried. "It was so awful! And degrading…and it hurt so bad…" He just held her and listened as she poured her story out to him. With every word, he grew angrier and angrier. Oh, to get his hands on Krum…that evil bastard…

She finally let go of him and they sat on the bed. "Honestly, Harry, I don't think I'll ever be able to do it again. It was so terrible."

"Do what? You mean…have sex?" he asked. They both blushed, and she nodded, looking at her lap.

"I don't think I could stand to have a man touch me after that." There was silence for a few moments.

"It doesn't have to be like that, you know," Harry said quietly.

She looked at him silently. "It can be the best thing in the world if you really love someone."

"I don't think so. It was painful, and dirty, and degrading…"

"It can also be tender and passionate and the ultimate expression of love." Their eyes met.

"Harry," she began, her eyes narrowing slightly, "have you ever, er, had sex?"

"No," he said quietly, his fingers tracing patterns on the bedspread.

"Then how do you know?"

"I just know." He took her hands gently in his and their eyes met. "I just know, Hermione."

"Hold me," she whispered. He wrapped his arms around her protectively as they lay down together on the bed, her head resting on his chest.

"You're so much different from Krum," she whispered "You're so gentle."

"That's because I love you." Fuck. Now he'd done it. He'd gone and said it. Said what he'd been both longing to say and terrified to say for years.

Her breath quickened. "You…love me?"

He nodded. "I've always loved you, Hermione," he said shyly, his face turning a little pink. She was stunned. Sure, Harry was one of her dearest friends and would do anything for her, but him, love her? She'd had no idea. She rose up to look into his eyes, her own still glistening.

"You love me?" she repeated, the idea finally sinking in. He nodded again. She was silent.

"But it's okay if you don't love me back," he said softly.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. His tenderness took her breath away. She finally found the courage to say what she'd wanted to for five years. "But I do love you," she whispered. "I always have…"

After a long, lingering look, his lips gently brushed hers, for a soft and tender kiss. He pulled away shyly.

She looked him in the eyes. "Do it again, Harry…"

That was all the encouragement he needed. In a split second his mouth was on hers again, only this time, with more urgency and need. He moaned in pleasure as she ran her hands through his hair, and she gasped as she felt his tongue gently seeking hers. She shyly met his with her own, and soon the kiss deepened, as they savored the feelings, the wetness, the taste…

The kiss, or kisses, rather, was eliciting all kinds of new feelings in her. Feelings she'd never felt before. Ever. A delicious warmth was running through her whole body, and she was feeling a little light-headed. She felt so…open. So receptive... And utterly out of control.

She suddenly broke away. "I can't do this Harry! Not now!"

"Do what?" he asked in a dazed voice. His mind was kind of foggy from the intense kissing.

"This! I mean…_this_ could be a prelude to something else."

He laughed. "Honestly, Hermione, we've just had our first kiss, and you expected us to hop in the sack together?"

"We are in the sack, in case you haven't noticed!" she retorted.

"You know exactly what I mean," he said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, I would never force you to do something you didn't want to do. Don't you know that?"

She sighed. He was so right. He was always right. "I know, Harry. I'm sorry. It's just…I'm so messed up right now. I'm so scared...and confused…afraid to believe, or to trust..."

"Shhh," he soothed, as he held her again, rocking her gently. "You can trust me. You can trust me." They held each other in silence, each of them loving the contact. He finally pulled away. "I'd better get to my room now, it's getting late." She nodded, not wanting him to go at all.

"And Hermione?" he said, turning towards her, swallowing hard. "When you are ready, let me be the one?" His voice trailed off. "I want to make you see…"

She smiled at his sincerity, his kindness. "Thank you Harry. For everything."

That night, she had the dream again. And the next night. And the next. Harry just did whatever he could to help. He listened to her, he talked to her, but he knew ultimately what she needed. She needed a good experience to replace the bad one. She needed someone to show her that sex could be sweet, passionate, and utterly wonderful. She needed new images in her mind to replace the old ones, so she could be cured. And he wanted to be the one to do it.

So far, they'd only kissed. Nothing more. Whenever things started to heat up, she'd get scared and end it. Harry never forced her. He'd wait until she was completely ready, even if it took years. Hell, he'd wait 'till doomsday if he had to.

Hermione thought seriously about the proposition he'd made that night in her bedroom. And, honestly, it sounded appealing. But as much as she loved him, and as much as she loved kissing him, she didn't know if she could ever go any farther than that. She kept remembering the pain, and Viktor…_But Harry's not Viktor_, she kept reminding herself.

Her dream on the fourth night was the worst ever. She awoke just after midnight, her nightgown soaked with sweat and a sickening fear in the pit of her stomach. Her breathing gradually returned to normal as she stared at the dark walls. He thoughts wandered to Harry. Gentle, sweet Harry. Harry who was sleeping in the bed on the other side of that wall.

She swallowed hard as she slid out of the covers and quietly crept out into the hall, making her way to his door, her heart pounding in her ears from what she was about to do. The door let out a small creak as she opened it. And then she saw him, her Harry, bathed in the gentle moonlight. He was only partially covered with the blankets, and she could see his chest rise and fall with his rhythmic breathing. She blushed. He wasn't wearing a shirt. And his hair was sticking up everywhere, looking all kinds of delicious. She went to him, hating to wake him, but needing him, all the same.

"Harry?" she whispered, as she gently placed her hand on his arm. "Harry?"

"Mmm…Hermione?" His voice was a little groggy from sleep. As his mind began to wake up she saw immediate concern and fear register on his face. "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

"Make love to me, Harry," she whispered. Her voice was steady and sure.

He rubbed his eyes, as if the whole scene were an apparition. "What?"

"Make love to me…" With that, she crawled into his arms and kissed him deeply. He just shut up and let her. In no time they were both panting from lack of air, and their faces were flushed. Hermione pulled away and sat on her knees, watching Harry as he watched her. Slowly, deliberately, she began unbuttoning the buttons of her nightgown. It was white. When the last button was undone, she let it slide down her shoulders to pool around her hips.

Harry could barely breathe when he saw her there. She was utterly angelic. Beautiful. Exquisite. Her creamy white skin, her gentle brown curls, messy from sleep, falling in disarray around her shoulders, her perfect breasts with pink nipples that were already hard…

She finally got the nightgown off and let it fall to the floor. Harry saw that she was wearing white underwear, too. It was plain white cotton. Nothing fancy. Nothing lacy or satin. And to Harry, it was perfect. They didn't need anything else. Just one male, one female…

In no time, she had slid out of her underwear, too, and sat before him completely naked, ready to give herself to him fully.

He was afraid to touch her. Afraid she'd shatter. Afraid he'd hurt her. He just kept looking at her, a goofy expression on his face. "Don't you like me?" she said quietly, self-consciously, when he didn't touch her.

"I _love_ you," he breathed. She gave him a shy smile.

"Touch me," she whispered. And he did. He gently put his hands on her naked waist as he pulled her to him, kissing her with renewed passion. Her body was still cold and clammy from the dream, and his touch made goosebumps creep up all over her skin. He let his mouth trail down to her neck, and to her breasts, wanting to discover every inch of her.

She gasped as she felt his mouth on her left breast for the first time, his tongue swirling over the nipple, making it even harder than it already was. Then he did the right one, his hands all the while traveling up and down her sides, leaving the other breast damp and cool as the air hit it.

She didn't know it could be like that. She had _never_ felt that way before in her entire life. So deliciously female, so sexy, so wet…

"You can touch me too, Hermione, if you want to," he said shyly once he had pried his mouth off her body long enough to get a word in. She slowly placed her hands on his smooth chest, and gradually moved them lower and lower until she was touching him through the thin flannel of his pajama pants. She'd never touched a boy like that, ever. Sure, Viktor had been inside her, but she hadn't laid a hand on him. She was shocked at what she felt. Harry was rock hard, for lack of a better word. And his erection was straining against the thin cloth. She began stroking him gently, loving it as he groaned in pleasure. And loving it for the feelings it brought out in her, too.

Suddenly he pulled her hand away. As much as he adored her little hand doing all kinds of naughty things to him, he had to stop her, or the show would be over too soon. Or there wouldn't even be a show. He pulled off his pants and boxers rapidly, and then kissed her again. When they broke apart he looked into her eyes, and all their questions were answered. He positioned himself over her, already feeling the heat emanating from her body and the wetness. She lay back watching him, slightly anxious, slightly afraid, but eager.

She was going to tell him to be gentle, but she didn't have to. In one smooth motion, he was inside her. Filling both her body and soul. And this time it was different. This time there was enough room, and everything felt wet and slick, and there was this wonderful friction, going up and up, taking her to heights she had never reached… He watched her reactions as he moved inside her, not wanting to hurt her. Gently rocking, her hips meeting his, they made love.

Early the next morning, Hermione awoke to find herself lying in Harry's bed. He was still asleep next to her. She blushed when she realized she was still naked. Her body was still tingling from his touch the night before. She smiled as she let her mind wander over the night's events. He had been so gentle, so loving, and it hadn't hurt at all. She loved the way he felt on top of her, the way he tasted, the way he smelled, the way he felt inside of her, the way he completed her… She loved _him_… And it had felt sooo good. Best night of her life? Oh, yes…

It was amazing how things turned out. Just days before, she'd vowed to ward off sex forever, and here she was, sleeping in Harry's bed, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of her life in his arms. She giggled. She'd slept with Harry Potter. She suddenly wondered if other men would be like Harry. But she didn't want to find out. She didn't want anyone touching her but him. Ever.

She snuggled closer to him, kissing his chest. He began stirring. "Hey," he said shyly as he stretched his arms.

"I love you, Harry," she said, holding his hand.

He smiled. "I love you, too." They just lay there, looking at each other, until she finally got up.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to my room. I've got to get back in there before anyone sees I've been gone." She reluctantly let go of him and threw her nightgown over her head.

"See you at breakfast?" she asked, as she reached for the doorknob.

"You bet." He gave her a huge smile. And then she was gone. Harry sank back into the pillows, scarcely believing what had just happened to him.

The day had been a good one. Hermione was in an excellent mood, and the Grangers had definitely taken notice. "Well, Harry," Helen had said. "I guess you're the cause of this. Hermione hasn't looked this happy in months." _If only they knew_.

Harry and Hermione had both blushed, and the first second he got alone with her he told her to tone it down or they might suspect something. But she couldn't help it. She felt renewed, alive. And she was in love.

Frankly, Hermione was shocked at the change in herself. And even more shocked at what she wanted. Because she was starting to want Harry. Very badly want Harry. It was like some kind of fire had been lit inside of her. She wondered if it was normal.

Dinner was torture for her. He was seated directly across from her, and she could barely keep her eyes off of him. God, he was sexy. Every now and then, he'd laugh at something her parents would say and his eyes would light up. Or he'd run his hand through that messy hair of his, or he'd give her a shy smile. Everything he did was so damn adorable. She could barely eat. All she could think about was him and her, together, and how she couldn't wait for the meal to end so she could get her hands on him.

"Do you want some dessert, Hermione?" her mother finally asked, as she began passing out plates with cherry pie.

"No, thanks." That was a lie. She did want dessert. Just a different kind.

She watched as Harry ate his pie, taking slow bites. _Oh, God! Did he just lick his lips?_ Fuck. She wanted him so bad. She couldn't wait another second.

"Harry," she suddenly said, letting her fork drop with a clatter. "I need to see you for a minute."

He looked at her in surprise and put down his own fork.

"Honey, can't it wait?" her father asked. "We're not done eating yet."

"No. It can't wait." With that, she got up abruptly and practically drug Harry out of the dining room, to the surprise of both him and the Grangers. She pulled him into the first room she came to. It was the bathroom, but she honestly didn't care.

"Hermione?" he began. But he didn't have a chance to finish, because she had literally jumped him, for lack of a better word. In a heartbeat, she had him up against the wall, her mouth working at his desperately. Her hand massaging him through his pants. God, he tasted good. Like cherries. But underneath she could taste him, and that taste was even sweeter. She sighed in pleasure. She needed him so bad...

Harry didn't protest. He just let her have her way with him. Even if it was in the bathroom, with her parents just a few doors down the hall.

"Fuck me, Harry," she whispered. His eyes bulged. _Did that just come out of Hermione Granger's mouth?_ _Hermione who knows the answer to everthing? Hermione who can practically recite Hogwarts, A History verbatim?_ Indeed it had. And who was he to argue?

In an instant, they were on the floor, with their only cushioning a flimsy yellow rug. They didn't even take their clothes off. She just bunched her skirt around her waist and he let his pants fall to his ankles. And it was bliss. Fucking on the bathroom floor like there was no tomorrow. When it was over, they just stayed joined together, as their breathing returned to normal. Tears welled up in her eyes at how much she loved him. He kissed her tears away silently. They gradually got up and fixed their clothes and regained their composure. Hermione then peeked outside to make sure it was safe to come out. All total, the event had taken less than ten minutes.

That night, she slept with Harry again. And all the rest of the nights that he was there. And she began having new dreams. New dreams of him and her that were filled to the brim with tenderness and overwhelming love. He was right. Sex was wonderful. _Making love_ was wonderful.

"Harry?" she whispered one night, as they were falling asleep.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For showing me. For _fixing_ me." He smiled.

"You're welcome."

And as sleep gradually engulfed her, she still wondered if it was normal to feel such desire for someone, and to crave sex so badly. Did other girls feel like that? Maybe Viktor was right. Maybe bookworms did like it best.

The End


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